


Pale

by gulpereel



Category: Kamen Rider Zero-One
Genre: Capitalism, Character Study, Dream like Imagery, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Multi, POV Second Person, Threats of Violence, neck biting, slight body horror, spoilers for all of zero one so far
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-22 15:29:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22451851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gulpereel/pseuds/gulpereel
Summary: Little second POV character study of Amatsu Gai and his relationships with the main cast.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Started writing this while drunk, but I'm pretty proud of how it turned out. Kind of artsy, this is also my first time writing a fanfic in second POV and usually I'm not a fan but I thought it would work well to get more into writing Gai as a character as I'm putting all my eggs into that basket, thanks. Hope you enjoy!!

#Yua Yaiba is going to betray you. 

You don't know when, but you can tell it's going to happen. You're not blind, neither are you stupid, you can read people easily enough. Her glares when she thinks you're not looking, her strained and hesitant responses to your weirder and weirder requests are clearly pushing her against her limit. When will she break? It would be too early for that, but it's not like it's any concern - you've blatantly ignored giving her any upgraded technology and she resents it. She looks upon that yappy stray dog and that new form and looks at you and there's a silent question of 'why' that hangs between you. 

You don't have an answer that she wants to hear - she probably already knows the answer. 

That's why she's going to betray you.

You knock over a pawn on the chess board and watch her flinch. 

You wonder if perhaps if your relationship had taken on a sexual nature, would you hold onto her loyalty for longer? If you had let her dominate you, fuck you, mess you up and let out that pent up rage towards you, would she still coldly walk past you in the corridors at Zaia Enterprise, ignoring your existence? You wonder if she's fucking that yappy dog. You almost want to ask if she is, how hard, does he cry? How pathetic is he? But you don't. 

"Is that all?" She says, as you decide on your next move against Hiden, you saw her roll her eyes as you talked but you don't bring it up. 

"For now." 

She's going to betray you.

But, it doesn't matter. You trace the lines of the Thouser Driver on your desk and look at her.

She looks at her phone instead.

\---

Isamu Fuwa doesn't trust you. 

It's absurd actually - he trusts Hiden more than you at this point and you can only laugh. 

That's the enemy, that's the humagear sympathizer and yet you're the one he glares at? You wonder if Fuwa is being soft on Hiden - his youthful nature, his jokes, his earnest naivety, it's hard not to be taken in by it. From the way Yaiba talks about Fuwa too, you know he thinks first with his bleeding heart, second with his fists, lastly with his brain. 

You briefly think about how cute he was, laying on the floor in the car park, barking at you like the wounded dog he was. 

You never owned a dog, but you thought about it as a child, a big one, trained to attack and protect you but that loved you unconditionally. Probably white - wouldn't want the dog hairs to be visible after all. You wonder if you can get Fuwa to your side then, sit down with him, smile and charm him in the same way you gently approach a dog that's threatened by you with the promise of treats. 

You both have the same thinking about humagears, it's almost foolish to be at odds.

Fuwa would shed less than a real dog.

Would probably take a while to teach basic tricks however, but you'd be a patient owner, you'd give him plenty of treats, praise him - you're almost certain he's desperate to hear the words 'good boy' from someone. You're not asking for much either.

Just destroy humagears, destroy Hiden, bring forth the next stage of human evolution.

Sit. Lick. Bark. Paw.

You invite him out for coffee within the week of getting the idea in your head. He seems wonderfully awkward in a situation that isn't work related but is awfully quick to remind you that he's only here because you offered to pay. You ask him what his salary at AIMS is and he ignores you. 

"Destroying humagears is enough," he adds after you raise an eyebrow, prompt him for more. 

"I'd pay you more, for the exact same job," you offer, but he just looks at you like you're speaking nonsense. Looks at you almost with the same disgust he does humagears actually, but you're almost immune to it by now - you're much more entertained at the way he's putting lump after lump of sugar into his coffee and you think it's charming. 

"Ain't it a little shady, you wanting to destroy some other company's products? Thought there were corporate bullshit laws about that kind of stuff."

"After the Daybreak incident," you see his hold on the coffee mug tighten ever so slightly, "I've come to realize sometimes corporate red tape can lead to disaster. If you know you can help save humanity, would you let law stand in your way? Theoretically."

"Theoretically, huh?"

You smile over the rim of your own mug, lean into the chair, widen your legs a little. Give him the sense that you're relaxed and open around him - that you're not intimated at all, and you can see it frustrates him. He knows he has no authority around you, and you're wondering if him realizing how inconsequential he is in this whole universe is beginning to get to him. You wonder if he knows that you bringing Horobi back to keep him distracted was a favour to him - he's nothing without Metsuboujinrai.net around to pretend like he has something to strive for. For him, his life ended during the Daybreak Incident and he doesn't even know he's sitting opposite you, the man who basically caused it. 

You almost get a little shiver of excitement then. 

You wonder what his face would be like, once he finds out. Would he try and fight you again? Would he at least get you on the ground?

You think about the times you saw him hack up blood after using Assault Wolf and you think about that feral face covered in blood in front of you. Baring his fangs at you, that pure anger and hatred would be thrilling to see up close, perhaps more wolf than the dog you see before you, scrunching up his face at the bitter coffee like a child.

You sip your coffee, bite your lip, he's talking about something but you're no longer listening. You don't need to listen, he's just rambling to fill in the uncomfortable silence between you and it's almost cute, like a shy first date. 

You think about teeth in your neck, biting down enough to rupture the skin, blood stains on your clothes. A stark red against white, you know it would look beautiful. To be dyed in malice, it's all you've ever wanted. 

"Hey, you even listening?" He gives a little wave in front of your face, gives you a look of both contempt and mild dislike, like he wants you to know he would rather be anywhere but here right now. "Maybe some rich guy like you has time to waste, but I don't."

"Oh, I can assure you, time being money is oh so very real."

Fuwa makes a face and finishes his coffee. He refuses to take your business card as he gets up. It's fine, you'll make Yaiba slip one into his pocket later.

Isamu Fuwa doesn't trust you, but it doesn't matter. 

You find yourself looking through listings of wolf mix dogs through-out the week. 

\---

Aruto Hiden hates you.

This is fine however, you hate him more.

You're reminded that you're still human because of it. 

It's almost irrational, you forgot Aruto existed until you saw the news article of Hiden's successor and you felt ceramic ghost your fingers as your nearly empty teacup dropped to the ground. You didn't even hear the smash, the chime of the pieces hitting the hard floor - your ears rang as nausea struck you. You told yourself you're annoyed at the successor news, not that Korenosuke is dead. You rubbed the skin around your ring, a little tick you've developed over the years, a step up from when you used to bite at the same area instead. 

Meeting him only made it worse. The naivety, the wrongly placed empathy, the annoying jokes - you're honestly surprised Hiden hasn't gone under sooner. You know you could buy the company within 30 minutes, file the paperwork, sign and date it. But, would that really accomplish what you want? Would that rip that youthful optimism out of him as sickeningly violent as your heart desires? Would it crush his soul as much as yours was when you were his age and a no-name head of some start up tech company that no one wanted to give the time of day? You've done a lot of things to get at your position - Aruto was merely just born into the right family at the right time. 

You feel the weight of a certain photo in your pocket and think about all the times Korenosuke Hiden praised you. You know why you keep that photo on you at all times, but you've merely ignored thinking about it deeply, to self reflect is a luxury of those with time to waste. You don't miss the way Aruto stared at you as you put the photo back into your blazer pocket after showing him that one brunch. He can think what he wants - it's irrelevant in the end. 

When Yaiba asks you why you're setting up these childish competitions, you tell her you merely want to help teach him how to be a better CEO, that you think he's still too green for such an important position. She doesn't look convinced. You don't try to convince her.

To see despair turn to hatred on that face that's always laughing and smiling - nothing will fill you with more joy. 

It's the only way for humans to evolve, after all. 

You wonder what the pure hatred of Aruto Hiden would be like and as you meet his glare across the water fountain, the setting sun dying the both of you red, you know it'll be soon. You watch as his hands shake and clench into fists by his side and you can tell he's imagining hitting you, shouting at you, but he's probably already learned that causing such a scene would be incredibly bad PR-

Ah, perhaps it is learning some CEO tricks after all. 

You could almost laugh. 

Aruto Hiden hates you.

But, it's what you want.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FUCK IT WE'RE CHAPTERS NOW OF ALL MY SECOND PERSON POV GAI FICS THERE'S MORE
> 
> This one was inspired by a request idea that Gai fucked his way up ZAIA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there is more of the same but this one gets a little arty and deals with some dreamlike imagery. Just a short piece. Subtle metaphor is for cowards I'm the Garth Marenghi of fanfic.

You're actually 24 when you learned another side to business. 

Sure, you're a technical genius, you're a natural born leader and have been making leaps and bounds since entering Zaia Enterprise, but the business side to things, you know you're lacking experience. The tech startups you've headed have only been small, short time companies - a singular idea and goal made into reality with a low budget and quick profits just on its genius alone. Zaia is different - the clients are different, they're not young graduates like yourself willing to take on a new idea from the sheer excitement of it all. They're harder to convince, harder to make put a name to paper - they're not interested in the specs and design features or the future you envision, they want straight forward business. Numbers. Money. 

And sometimes, something else.

You felt a hand linger on your shoulder and the benefits of working with Zaia stop falling out of your mouth. The president of a shipping company needed for the mass shipment of a new product you're hoping to kick start your bid to a higher position within the company stands behind you and you stare straight forward. 

In front of you is a painting. It's definitely not an original, you can tell just by the surface texture - it's a printout, and honestly it's quite garish. Something 80s, modern, corporate, nothing that is really inspiring beyond taking up a large space on the wall - it's unpleasant to look at. 

You feel fingers stroke up your shoulder to your neck. You're wearing a collared shirt for once but no tie, top button undone, giving you that mixture of youthful entrepreneur you long for yet still classic enough not to offend. The fingers on your skin are soft as they caress upwards and downwards, pausing to rub behind your ear gently, as if trying to relax a tense animal. 

You didn't even notice your hands clenched on the hand rests. 

You continue to stare - glare - at the painting in front of you. 

You feel breath against your neck, then teeth. You only let out a small breath of pain, only wince ever so slightly, but you almost can't bring yourself to acknowledge the face in the hollow of your neck, chewing at your skin in a way that would bring vampires to shame. 

You think about what someone once said - that the rich were vampires. You bite your lip to stop yourself from chuckling to yourself out loud. 

Then, you feel your head pulled to the side, into a kiss. You stare past this man’s face to instead look at the view from the highest floor of this tall building - you can see most of Roppongi from here, the Tokyo Tower is in clear view. You think then how you wouldn't want an office this high up - it's too gaudy, tacky, to be the president looking down like this is too literal for your tastes. You keep your head still as you feel a tongue enter your mouth and you barely respond beyond letting muscles go lax. You open your mouth wider, feel the sensation of drool not yours entering and mixing with your own - the taste nondescript, vaguely tastes like coffee. You feel of heat of a tongue touching the roof of your mouth, your gums, and it makes you shiver but you hope the other didn't notice, probably didn't.   
The hand in your hair is gentle as to not mess it up. The other hand plays over the bite on your neck and it's still too fresh to really feel anything. 

The kiss breaks apart. The other returns to his seat like nothing happened and he passes over a business card with an address and time. It's so cliched it makes you raise your eyebrows in disbelief for a few moments but you take it, make a show of putting it inside your blazer pocket. 

The man is old enough to be your father.

Later that week, when you're finalizing the finishing touches on the contract to file away for the next stage of planning and production, you feel an itch at your neck. 

You've decided to wear a turtleneck that day. It's autumn, so it's not too unusual, but it's a necessity. You think about how teeth ghosted a mark that was already there, fit itself into the dented shapes and tightened until you gasped in pain. You tasted blood in the kisses that night and when you returned to your apartment at 4am you looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror and ghosted fingertips over your neck. 

The wound throbs under the soft cashmere of your turtleneck. You had put a plaster on it earlier, so there's no worry even if it opens back up, bleeds. You wonder if you should've treated it better but you were tired. You feel your fingers twitch on your pen as you resist the urge to scratch, scratch, scratch - it's itchy and you feel your hand going to your neck. 

You only rub at it a little. You have more self-control that that, you reprimand yourself mentally. You'll only make it worse. 

You have a dream that week where you stare at yourself in a mirror and as you pull down the turtleneck, you see the bite on your neck is infected - a gross visage of gore and flesh. 

You watch as you scratch at it but you only make it worse but it feels satisfying to dig your fingernails in, to feel blood on your fingers, to watch it get all over the white that surrounds it. It won't stop bleeding - your white clothes are stained red as if dyed with the finest of carmine available, a luxurious vivid red that makes you think of royalty. Except, you know red isn't really a royal colour, it's purples, golds. 

Red isn't for you. 

You dig harder at the wound, scratch harder. You feel as if there's layers now, that there's something underneath this surface of disgusting flesh and it doesn't hurt as so much creates a pleasant sensation like a lover gently scratching behind your ear. 

Ah. There it is. The red turns to gold and it glitters against your fingertips as it flows. Your clothing in the mirror is back to white. You pull your hand away and settle your turtleneck back in place as it no longer feels itchy, then you lift your gold covered hand to your face. You rub the liquid substance between your fingers - it feels like silk - and you have an urge to taste it. It clumps together before you can, and a beetle sits in your palm - a sparkling gold with amethysts for eyes. 

You wake up.

**Author's Note:**

> gai: miss yua ur strap plz :weary:  
> yua: i am not doing that


End file.
